now those eidolic dread horses have scarred your slumber, passed 9, passed 10, and even your furniture has silent, open mouthed, nightmares over the too soon dead, dead school friends who never ended their crossings and see, see, she stoops, in shroud ghastly knelt as in prayer but you can’t see, see through the tricks of light that scream “she is there”, your crumpling chest boiling as the bo...